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"You should take a rest, Leon."

It was uttered out by the man in black garb gilded with gold. He was sitting behind a grand table, reading and signing important documents. His dark brown hair was neatly styled back, without any single strand standing out. His sharp hawk-like eyes narrowed at the weary marquis standing on his side.

In front of him was a stack of papers he was reading and sometimes sealing it. They were all either a new policy, an appeal, or reports. It was all sifted to the most to least important.

It was none other than the great sun of the Rosenthal Empire, Emperor Ilbertus Micahel Garin-Windsor III. His right hand, which was holding a quill, moved to draw his signature over the parchment. The golden ring with the royal family's insignia on his finger glinted in the light, it was the ring that signifies him, as the emperor. The symbol of his authority and power.